In The After
by ticklethebeast
Summary: Hermione struggles in light of another post-war tragedy that strikes all too close to home, and finds solace and companionship in a certain red-headed young woman who teaches her that it is okay to let go of blame and fear, and begin to live. -trigger warning-
1. Chapter 1

As everyone else slowly began clearing out, Hermione stayed where she was, feet rooted to the ground as if it were a part of her, connected. Here, connected to the ground she was still connected to Ron; still whole. If she were to move, so would cease to be that. She would cease to be anything.

As they passed, people muttered their condolences, giving her pats on the shoulder, and squeezes of the hand that she barely even registered. She didn't feel anything at this moment; not the cold win, not the rain pricking against her face, dampening her hair, not Harry's arm around her shoulder as he stood next to her, looking down into his best friend's grave whilst clutching the hand of the lithe eccentric blonde on his other side.

With a kiss on her temple, Harry removed his arm, wiped angrily at his eyes, and walked away as well, trailing Luna behind him.

This was all wrong. The war had ended months ago, and yet here they were again, mourning someone who had lost his life so senselessly, so prematurely. How was this okay? How was this fair? Didn't the world have any kindness left? Hermione was starting to think that it couldn't.

And that Ron had died defending her… had died, stopping the ruthless torture she was forced to keep re-living every day; it made no sense, and now everyone was insisting on treating her as if she were made of glass.

After. After she had woken in 's, after they had told her about Ron, they had given her the ring they had found in a box in his jacket pocket. A small diamond offset by two tiny pearls. It had been meant for her, but now it was too late. It was After.

No longer caring about putting on a brave face now that everyone had cleared away except for a few stragglers, Hermione let herself crumple at the knees, until she was sitting haphazardly on the damp grass, so very un-elegant in her black dress. Pulling the chafing black heels off of her feet, she slumped forward, too exhausted to do much else; too exhausted even to cry. She felt cried out. Instead she took to staring straight ahead at the bleary mass of orange and yellow flowers that Mrs. Weasley had placed on her youngest son's coffin. She stared until they transformed in her mind into the hair of that boy, who had meant so much to her for so long, and was then startled to find that the head of red hair was moving, coming towards her.

Suddenly, her sight clearing, she found that it wasn't Ron's ghost at all, but Ginny, her brilliant matching red locks falling out of their messy bun as she stooped to Hermione's level.

"C'mon, 'Mione. Time to go." The younger girl's voice was rough, as if speaking were hard, and although startled by the sound of it Hermione imagined that it might be difficult. The girl had lost two brothers and her boyfriend in the space of a month, and had still been expected to somehow hold her family together. And how could she be stopping now to even give a care for Hermione? Hadn't Ron's death been Hermione's fault? How could no one see that? Hadn't she expressed her guilt?

Knowing that she ought not argue with Ginny, not here and now, she took the offered hand up, wobbling a bit as she put her shoes back on robotically, and followed the beacon of red hair away from the field and up the winding path back to the Burrow.

The atmosphere in the familiar cottage was somber at best. She could see Harry on the couch in the living room, his head pressed into Luna's shoulder as he clung onto the deluminator, bequeathed to him in the will that none of them had known Ron had made.

In the kitchen George was leaning against the counter staring dully into a glass of firewhiskey. He looked up and gave Hermione a nod and a sad smile. That first day he had spent two hours trying to convince Hermione through her hysterics that it hadn't been her fault, not that Hermione had been wiling to listen. Suddenly at the memory, she felt a bit sick.

In the corner, Mr. Weasley was patting the hair of his inconsolable wife, as Percy, face an odd ashen white, was brewing tea at the stove. Out the window, Hermione could just barely make out the forms of Bill and Charlie setting about the grim task of burying their brother as the sun made it's quick descent.

None of this was right, thought Hermione. It was all so cruel, as if it were a trick left behind by Voldemort himself, and, not for the first time, did she consider whether or not that was what it was. After all, hadn't he been killed by a known and faithful follower of You Know Who? She shuddered, and retreated back into herself. It was easier here, unseeing, and without even a thought, she let whoever was grasping her hand take the lead.

Minutes later, she found herself upstairs in Ginny's room, on Ginny's floor, unable to keep upright another second, and she realized that she had no idea how she had gotten here.

"Hermione…"

A soft voice broke through the haze, and the older witch's vision cleared, her eyes settling on another pair, in a vibrant green colour that seemed to be full of questions that Hermione wasn't sure she could answer, even if she had the entirety of the Hogwarts library at her disposal.

Something in the tone of that voice however broke something down within her that she had been holding back for over a week now, and suddenly it was all Hermione could do to pull away and run.

She didn't know what she was running toward, or away from, but she knew that she had to move. She couldn't handle soft voices. She couldn't handle any voices. The one in her head was too much as it was. She tore down the stairs, through the sitting room past Harry and Luna, through the kitchen full the the brim with grieving Weasleys and other loved ones. She let the back door slam on her way through, now bare feet squishing in the mud of the garden, and then through tall grass and brambles that snagged at her dress and cut up her shins and feet. She kept on running over rocks, and sticks and gods only knew whatever else, because that was better than thinking. It was better than feeling. It was better than anything had been since that day; that night.

What she hadn't counted on was the swiftness of the other younger Weasley child, who had now caught up, and was yelling for Hermione to please, please stop, but Hermione couldn't. She had to keep running, even if her lungs were protesting, and her muscles ached, and the bruises that she hadn't let heal yet were screaming, and her ribs were in a stabbing pain. This physical pain was so much better than the alternative.

As if she had given up, Ginny stopped, letting the older girl continue for a moment, before hitting Hermione with a swift and painless stunning spell before levitating her to the ground before she could fall and inflict more damage upon herself.

Cursing under her breath as her back landed on the grass as if she were a feather, Hermione admonished herself for forgetting that she could easily be stopped, and swallowed deeply, closing her eyes, not wanting to see those green eyes again.

The next moment she felt Ginny's hand on her shoulder, and then felt a soft mattress under her back rather than the scratchy damp ground. She knew the younger girl had apparated her back into her room.

When she did open her eyes though, she realized that it wasn't the Burrow at all, but a very plain white room with a window and a bed and a small hearth and high ceiling, and the plainness of it momentarily startled her out of her hysteria as she had no idea where she was at all.

Turning quickly, reaching reflexively for her wand which she then remembered was broken and in need of replacement, she calmed slightly when she saw Ginny to the side of her, still in her funeral clothes, panting.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Before Hermione could ask the question, Ginny gave the answer.

"We're in Fred and George's old flat. After Fred… well, George couldn't live here anymore, so he moved back home, but he told me I could have it. He still pays the rent. It's where I've spent most of the summer."

Hermione blinked and looked around, noting the rumpled bed linens, but other than that, the space looked uninhabited—way too barren for a place that Ginny Weasley, who was so full to the brim of colour would live. She looked back at the younger girl, who kept talking.

"I know. It's pretty dismal. But it's away from the Burrow and the memories there. You can stay, if you want. If not, at least let me make sure you get home to your parents. I don't want you alone right now." There was an unspoken _'and I don't want to be alone, either.'_

Hermione was about to argue, to say she would rather be alone, and why didn't anyone understand that she didn't deserve company because it was all her fault, but the stern raise of Ginny's brow, so very like Mrs. Weasley herself kept Hermione's mouth closed, and meekly, she gave a nod, which seemed to placate the young woman in front of her.

Looking down, she suddenly realized that she was covered in bloody scratches from the brambles she had just run through, and probably more than a few bruises to add to her already present collection, and at a deep breath in, she knew she had aggravated her healing broken ribs. Apparently noticing Hermione's expression of pain, Ginny kneeled at the older witch's feet with her wand, muttering the spells needed to heal the shallow cuts running up her shins and forearms, and another allowing Hermione to notice a marked reduction in pain that told her that much of her bruising had been removed. Another, and it felt like a warm rush of water was flowing down from the crown of her head, filling her limbs, and relaxing her muscles, and suddenly she felt calmer than she had since _that night._

Looking at Ginny, she spoke for what felt like the first time in days.

"Where did you learn to heal like that?"

Ginny frowned, and stood, turning away from the older girl, and walked over to the window, looking out.

"I had to learn. Hogwarts wasn't so much a school last year as a concentration camp, and with the Carrows, well, you either learned, or you suffered. I used to heal the first years when they would return from class and detention in tears, and then, well, I had to heal myself; At least as much as I could. I couldn't let the younger ones see me lose hope."

Hermione could see Ginny's jaw tense up as she peered through the window into a different place before shaking her head and snapping herself back to the present.

Hermione often forgot what Ginny had been through in the past year while she had been off with Harry and… and Ron. She hadn't thought about how much the young girl had lost; friends, a lover, two brothers…She bit her lip, drawing blood.

"Ginny, I—I'm sorry. I should go. I shouldn't be here. All of this is my fault. I'm just gonna… go." Hermione stood, but as Ginny turned, her face red with anger, her height seeming to double, the older witch found herself sitting back down as if under a spell.

"No, Hermione. You sit. You're not going to bloody run away again. I won't let you. I know why Ron died, Hermione, and I can't sit by and let you blame yourself. My brother went down a hero, and I'm proud. Yes, it hurts like hell, knowing he won't be there to kick me under the table again, or race me on my broom, or call me a prat, or hold me while I cry over some stupid failed date, but I know that he died for a reason, and that reason was love. I know what happened. I was there in 's, and I heard it all, so you're not going to sit there and blame yourself for this anymore. Not in front of me!"

Ginny was breathing hard, her fingernails digging little half moons into her palms, and Hermione couldn't keep the tears from coming any longer in her sudden mortification.

"How, Ginny? How did you find out? Why were you at 's? No one was supposed to know, the doctor's promised confidentiality!"

Ginny sighed, and slid down to sit on the floor below the darkened window, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"I was there doing my diagnostic test to become a healer. Mum doesn't know about it yet. I haven't been able to tell her, with everything that's happened. I saw them carry you in. I—I saw the blood, 'Mione. I saw where it was coming from. And then I heard about Ron, and that snatcher, and I put two and two together." The young girl gave a shudder. "Honestly, I don't know how you're up and about and sane right now."

Hermione gave a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure that I am sane anymore, Gin. I can't even say what happened. I can't make myself say that word." Hermione closed her eyes.

"Rape," said Ginny, matter-of-factly. "You've got to say it sometime, Hermione. And you have to know that no one will blame you, least of all your family, because it wasn't your fault."

Tears filled up Hermione's eyes at Ginny's words for many, many reasons. "But, he's gone, Ginny. And if it hadn't been for me he wouldn't have had to fight."

Ginny crawled over to the older girl, and pulled her down into her lap, wrapping her arms around Hermione's frail shoulders in an attempt to get comfort as much as give it, as her own tears began to finally fall. "He would have fought anyway, no matter who was being attacked, and you know it. So put all of this _fault_ business behind you now. What's important is that you keep going, and live to honor Ronald's sacrifice."

Hermione nodded as Ginny stood, lifting Hermione easily in her strong athlete's arms as she did, and laid the older girl on top of her bed, covering her with the plain duvet.

"Sleep, 'Mione. I know you haven't all week. I've been watching. I'll check on you in bit. I need to run back to the Burrow so Mum doesn't have a worry fit about us. I'll get your things."

Suddenly feeling the weight of her tiredness crashing down, Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Ginny." And then she was gone to a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When Hermione awoke, it took her a few minutes to remember where she was and how she had gotten here, and as her head cleared of the fog of much needed sleep, the pain, both bodily and emotional, welled up again.

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, taking stock of her surroundings. The sun streaming low through the window told her that it was probably mid-afternoon. She must have slept for twelve hours or more, not that her body hadn't needed the rest.

A noise from beyond a hallway got her attention, and with arguing muscles, Hermione made her way in its direction.

Ginny, in jeans and a black tee-shirt hair tied loosely in a bun, was standing at a stove range, heating something in a pan, using her wand to stir. Hearing Hermione enter the room, she turned, giving the girl a tentative smile.

"Mum sent me back with some of her soup and bread. I thought you might be hungry when you woke up."

Hermione swallowed the lump that formed in her throat at the thought of Mrs. Weasley still cooking for children that weren't even her kin, when she had just lost another son, and replied with a meek 'thank you.'

"Thank mum," was Ginny's reply. "You'd think the woman would give herself a break one of these days, but she says cooking gives her peace of mind in troubled times." Ginny gave a sigh, and ladled some of the thick beef soup into two bowls, balancing a heel of bread on the lip of each, before carrying them over to a small coffee table in front of a shabby green corduroy sofa that was just so very Weasley.

As she sat, Hermione noted that it was about the only thing Weasley in the room. Everything else was so stark and clean and neat. As if noticing Hermione's scrutiny of the room, Ginny toned in. "I haven't found a replacement I can afford, yet. George said he'd help me, but I don't want to use his money for my place. He's already doing too much by paying my rent."

Hermione nodded. She didn't quite understand the sparse décor sense that Ginny seemed to be going for at the moment, but she didn't feel at liberty to question it. It wasn't her flat.

After the meal, which Hermione had to force herself to finish, as she just had no appetite, Ginny cleaned and put up the dishes by magic before turning to face the brunette, and the older girl had the distinct feeling that a lecture was headed her way.

She was surprised however, when Ginny simply said, "'Mione, I really hate to be the one to tell you this, but you really smell pretty awful right now."

"I—what?" Hermione was caught off guard.

"When was the last time you had a proper shower?" the red head asked. Hermione thought about it. She had washed for the funeral, and put on a dress, and combed out her hair, but that had been out of necessity, and hadn't been a real shower, just a wash with a face cloth. When had she last bathed? They had cleaned her up at the hospital, but had she bathed since? She really couldn't remember, and that set a blush spreading on her cheeks. Had she really neglected herself that badly that she couldn't remember her last shower? She looked down at her dress, noting that it was still covered in mud from her frantic run the night before, and the rest of her probably matched.

"I—I'm not sure," she answered truthfully, the blush spreading down her neck, to be covered by the flecks of mud there. "I'm sorry, Gin."

Ginny scoffed. "Don't apologize, Herm. Its been a difficult week. How about you remedy it though. There's a bathroom in the hall. I'll bring you a towel."

The hot water and soap was like a balm for Hermione's muscles, and nerves, both, and she stayed there in the shower until the water ran cold, before stepping out and drying off, doing anything she could to avoid the mirror. She had the distinct feeling that she wouldn't recognize the girl in the mirror, and didn't want to confront that yet. Not until the bruises were gone.

After wrapping herself in the fluffy purple towel that Ginny had brought her; one of the few colorful objects she had seen in this place, she realized that she had nothing to wear but her soiled dress, and suddenly wished for both her wand and her beaded bag, which were now both lost, along with all of the possessions the bag had held: the majority of her childhood and teenage years.

Wrapped in the fluffy towel, hair still dripping slightly as it curled around her shoulders, she padded into the living room where Ginny was reading.

"Gin, did you happen to get my stuff from the Burrow? I've got nothing to wear."

Ginny looked up from her book, eyes traveling up from the older girl's bare feet, and settling on her face. "Yeah. It's in my room. I put what I could find in a bag. If you're missing anything just find something in my drawers."

"Thanks."

As she walked back into Ginny's bedroom, she pondered slightly why there was now such an edge of awkwardness between the two. _You got her brother killed, you twit, of course she's going to act differently._

Pushing this thought away, she remembered what Ginny had said the night before about blame, and set her jaw, trying to find some truth in it.

Hermione found pajamas bottoms in her stuff along with undergarments, but had to borrow one of Ginny's shirts, and after rifling quickly through the drawers in the room's dresser, she pulled out a green Holyhead Harpies jumper and pulled it over her head.

When she walked back into the living room to sit by Ginny she was greeted with a laugh that sounded so foreign to her ears that it shocked her a bit.

"What?"

"I never thought I'd ever see you in a quidditch jumper," explained Ginny.

"I always supported Gryfffindor," defended Hermione.

"Yeah, but that's different," replied Ginny. "You're practically required to support Gryffindor. But the idea of you going to an actual professional match of your own volition; now that's funny," said Ginny, in a tone both sarcastic and jovial.

Feeling immature, but unable to come up with a better response, Hermione stuck out her tongue at the younger girl, earning a fit of giggles that sounded to her more like a symphony after so much time without even a smile, and suddenly Hermione was laughing too, with tears streaming down her face, and then tears of laughter turned to tears of grief, and she found herself once again in the arms of the younger woman, who was crying as well.

Hermione found that she was no longer able to keep the tears in, and resigned to letting them flow onto Ginny's shirt; both the one she currently wore, and the one adorning the redhead whose neck she found her face pressed into. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, or if she had been asleep or awake the whole time, but as she let her swollen eyes open, eyelashes brushing against Ginny's chin, she found that she didn't want to move from these arms around her waist. She felt safe for the first time since… since After.

And so she stayed right there, on that putrid green couch, with another Weasley, trying to put the puzzle pieces of her broken life back together as the younger girl holding her slept, and she decided one thing: she and Ginny would help each other, because she had found by watching that the younger girl was carrying a few too many secrets and hurts of her own.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ginny awoke early the next morning and set about attempting to disentangle herself from the sleeping brunette at her side, suddenly very aware of the chill in the room. After managing to remove her now dead arm from underneath the neck of the older girl, she carefully climbed over the arm of the sofa before going to find a jumper for herself and a blanket to cover Hermione with.

That task done, she looked out the window. Late August was starting to get chilly quickly, and the stormy grey of the London sky seemed to be picking up on the moods of herself and everyone around her. Rain. Again. But what else could she expect from England, really?

With a quiet sigh, she pulled her hair down from the already falling bun, running her fingers through it on her way to the kitchen. Her face felt puffy from crying, and her body protested at every movement, but lazing about wouldn't help anything. Coffee. That was what she needed.

Minutes later as she poured her first cup she looked back over at the sleeping girl on the couch, whose dark under-eye circles looked more pronounced in the dim light of morning, and decided to let her sleep for now, but she knew that if she had any chance of cheering the older girl up even slightly, she had to get her out of this apartment, away from the Burrow, and doing something useful and fun, or at least something with a bit of normalcy, but what?

Not giving her much time to ponder it, Hermione stirred, and rolled over on the couch.

"Gin?" she called out, the tone of her voice sounding a bit fearful, which worried Ginny.

"I'm right here, Hermione" she called back. "Are you okay?"

Hermione sat up, and pulled her knees to her chest under the blanket, wincing slightly, and put her head down on her knees, rolling her neck as if to stretch it out. "Yeah, I was just confused as to where I was and then I remembered last night." Hermione turned towards the redhead.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Ginny frowned into her mug, pondering the answer.

"Honestly, no, but it'll get better. I think we should get out today."

Hermione stiffened at the suggestion, looking frightened.

With a sigh, Ginny filled another mug, added some milk and made her way over to the couch to hand it off to Hermione and take a seat.

"I know its scary, 'Mione. Gods only know what you're feeling right now, and I only wish I could understand. You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to. I would never force you to do anything. I really do think it would do you some good though; at least a small trip. And I'll be there the whole time. If you want to come home just say so and we'll leave."

Hermione's voice wavered as she responded. "Where—where would we go?"

At that, Ginny shrugged. "I thought we'd go to Diagon Alley. You need a new wand. I need some new robes for training. "

At this something seemed to hit Hermione that she hadn't yet thought of. "Ginny, aren't you supposed to go back to Hogwarts in September and do your final year?"

Yes, Professor McGonnagal had given Hermione permission to return to re-do the time she had missed, but she hadn't accepted, choosing instead to spend time putting herself back in order form the war, but she doubted that Ginny had been given the same amount of choice in the matter, especially since Mrs. Weasley would have been involved.

Ginny's ears turned beet red, the blush spreading out prettily form there, suddenly reminding Hermione so much of Ron that her heart gave a lurch.

"Well, that's just it, 'Mione. That's why I haven't told mum yet. You see, I'll be of age soon, and allowed to leave school if I want, and how can she really argue if I've got a real job lined up?" Something in the redhead's face shadowed over just then. "Besides, how can I go back to Hogwarts right now and be okay? Everything will just remind me of Fred, and Tonks, and Lupin, and everyone else. And now with Ron…"

Hermione nodded grimly. "I understand, Ginny. That's why I couldn't go back either. Not yet. I considered it, but I just cant, no matter how much I want my NEWTs. I'm hoping that if I study on my own they'll still let me sit for the exams." She looked up at Ginny. "Not that I'm complaining, since you clearly have a knack for healing, but I thought you always wanted to play quidditch? What about the Harpies?" She gestured down the green and gold sweater she was still wearing.

"Mom's right. Quidditch is just a fancy. Its not useful, and I ought to stop spending my time on silly dreams and be more down to earth."

Hermione shook her head. That didn't sound like Mrs. Weasley at all. Mrs. Weasley would have told her daughter to pursue whatever made her happy in the long run. George ran a joke shop for Merlin's sake, and if that wasn't the farthest from a practical career, Hermione didn't know what was, and she found that she had a difficult time believing Ginny's explanation, but sensed that prying any more just now would upset her.

"Okay. So. A wand. And robes."

Ginny nodded, standing up, and pulling Hermione up with her.

"A wand, and robes. Let's go get dressed and head out."

Hello! Thanks to everyone who has checked this out so far. Follows and reviews are really appreciated. Also, for some reason the word 's keeps getting cut out, so when you see a random 's, I'm probably referring to a certain well known wizarding hospital. Thanks again!


	5. Chapter 5

Still feeling too weak to apparate just yet, Hermione took the floo into the Leaky Cauldron, and met up with Ginny at the entrance to Diagon Alley. As it was nearing the time when school shopping went into full swing, the square was packed with busy shoppers, and Hermione and Ginny thankfully found that they could blend in with the crowd with no problem.

Because all of Hermione's possessions had been lost, including her coin satchel, they first made a stop at Gringotts. Since the end of the war the bank had undergone a full repair, with the installation of a beautiful new crystal roof to replace the previous marble one. The ministry had seen that all wizard- goblin relations had been smoothed over since the covert but necessary breach pulled off by Hermione herself, with Ron and Harry, and a lot of positive changes had been made. It seems that once the goblins got word that their dragon, and what was taken from the LeStrange vault was crucial to the downfall of the dark lord the infiltration was seen as means of celebration rather than anger. Hermione however still felt vastly uncomfortable in the presence of the creatures, thinking about Griphook's face when he had let them for death. She was also vastly uncomfortable with the amount of gold that had been deposited into her vault since the fall of Voldemort: part of it was ministry reward, part of it was the divided wealth of captured death eaters which had been divided by the ministry to members of the order as well as put toward the reparations at Hogwarts, and an even larger, even more staggering sum came from well wishers and those wishing to donate to the golden trio, to whom many now felt they were in debt. Hermione found it all ridiculous, as she and the others would have done everything they had anyway. Not wanting to dwell on how ridiculous it all was, she quickly made her withdrawal, and left, Ginny following suit.

The Weasleys had never had money. In fact they had always been notoriously poor, but now their combined wealth placed them on par with even the Malfoys and Ginny found it truly bizarre and frightening. She didn't know what to do with gold, and so let it sit in the fault. No doubt she could find a good charity or something eventually.

They stopped into Madame Malkin's first to get the robe shopping out of the way, as that was bound to be the quickest, and easiest trip. After about ten minutes of the magical measuring tape flicking along Ginny's athletic frame, she was able to purchase three emerald green training robes, as well as gloves, Hermione choosing a new practical black robe to replace her old one, and they were on their way.

Ollivander's had been rebuilt, but was now under new management, which Hermione found almost devastatingly sad, but she understood why the old man had retired after all this time. That he had survived a year of torture at Malfoy Manor was still miraculous. He now resided in a cozy little cabin not far from Shell Cottage where Fleur had nursed him back to health.

The man that greeted them when they entered looked to be about thirty, and while the whole experience of finding a new wand was tiresome on the whole, they found his service to be good. No wand would ever respond to Hermione the way her first one had, but after a good hour or so, she found one that felt close: Holly, 13", Unicorn hair. She still had hopes that she could somehow summon her old wand and her beaded bag from wherever they had ended up, but at the moment she did not feel strong enough to try, and didn't want to bother anyone else with the task; least of all Ginny.

After both errands were done, Hermione found that she now felt extremely awkward, and just wanted to get back to somewhere safe and quiet. Ginny, however had different plans. She was desperate to see how George was doing, and apparently had a pressing question that could just not be asked by owl, and so Hermione, much to her dismay, found herself being led by the hand into that all too cheery joke shop.

They did no, however, find George at the till, which was being manned by a young blonde girl, but Ginny was not deterred.

"George?" she shouted through the door at the back of the shop. "It's Ginny, can I talk to you?"

After a moment, the tall Weasley man opened the door, and Hermione noticed that he appeared pale, his freckles standing out brightly on his nose and cheeks. He opened the door further to let them through.

"Hey, Gin. 'Mione. Sorry for the mess—wasn't expecting anybody." He brushed some candy wrappers off of the small couch in the room and offered them the seat. "What can I do for you, sis? Finally decided to take my offer to furnish that cell you've been living in?"

Ginny sighed. "No, George. I do have a favor to ask about it though."

George raised an eyebrow in questioning. Hermione was feeling more than a little out of sorts because she had never seen George this quiet, but then again she had avoided being around him ever since Fred…

"Well, Mione needs a place to live, as I really don't want her going back to Ron's and she can't stay at the Burrow forever, and her parents decided to stay in Australia. I was wondering if she could stay with me without affecting the rent? Not that it matters, as I can pay the balance, but you're so against me paying for myself anyway, although I don't now why…" Ginny blathered on.

Hermione watched, stunned at Ginny's suggestion, as George's eyebrows rose, and then furrowed, and then suddenly she heard a sound that startled her so much she didn't know what to do, and she jumped nearly falling from her chair. George was laughing. It wasn't a chuckle, or a small titter either, but a full on boisterous belly laugh that filled up the room and stopped Ginny from continuing.

Suddenly George had Ginny up in an embrace, her arms pinned to her sides. "Oh, Jesus, sis, I needed that. You're too funny, you know?"

Ginny squirmed in his grasp, disgruntled. "I don't see what's so funny. I was asking an honest question."

Hermione stood, no longer able to bear it. "I know what's funny Ginny. Its obviously a joke that anyone would live with me after what I've done. I'll just go collect my things and leave."

Before either redhead was able to protest, Hermione turned on the spot and disappeared.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" asked George, concerned. "I only thought it was so funny that you would even bother asking about Hermione living with you. I already added her name to the lease when you both disappeared yesterday."

Ginny sighed, knowing that she would have to go after the girl. "It seems that Hermione has it in her thick head that Ron's death was her fault and that we all hate her now."

George shook his head. "Okay, now you've got to be joking. She can't honestly believe that can she?"

Ginny gave a sad nod. "She can, and she does."


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione's injuries were slowing her down, and she was feeling more lethargic than ever when she reached Ginny's apartment again to gather her stuff, and she knew she should not have apparated, but she had needed so badly to get away.

_What's wrong with me?_ She wondered. It was like all red hair made her want to run, crying, for the hills, and hide forever_. She told me not to blame myself, but I can't help it. All I see is his face, in pain, calling out my name one last time._

Shaking her head to clear the vision she began the trek up the stairs to where Ginny's small room was, but only made it part way up as her vision swam further and turned black.

The next thing she knew she was waking again in a soft bed, and could hear the murmur of voices in the distance. _I have got to stop waking up in strange beds, _she thought wryly. As she lay with her eyes closed she realized she was unable to move, but she could now distinguish whom the voices belonged to.

"Poor dear," tutted Mrs. Weasley, sounding exhausted. "But how is it that she can blame herself? A rogue death eater murdered Ronald. Surely she can see that there is no fault of hers to be had." Hermione then felt a warm hand on her forehead, brushing back her hair, but struggle as she might she couldn't move a muscle. She couldn't even lift an eyelid, and she wondered what spell she must be under as this didn't feel like a body bind.

"I can't explain it, mum. It's not my place to say. Its not her fault, but I can understand why she would feel like it was. If I were in her place I wouldn't want to face anyone, least of all any of us."

"Ginerva Weasley, you're not making a lick of sense, and if you expect me to let either of you out of my sight again anytime soon you'll start talking! Hermione is family, and she knows that she can always come to any one of us about anything!" the matron now sounded angry as well as concerned, and Hermione's mind began to panic.

_Don't tell her, Ginny! Please!_

"I can't tell, mum! I won't! I promised!" Ginny sounded both angry and desperate, and Hermione thought that she could detect the wetness of tears in her voice, and wished again that she could move. She knew it wasn't fair for Ginny to be put in this position with her mother, but Hermione was desperate that no one else would find out her shame.

"Ginny, if you won't tell her, I will. I can't watch all of this anymore." A new voice joined the two Weasley women, and Hermione's heart sank. He knew. He had been there.

"Harry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley implored questioningly.

"There's a part of the story you haven't heard, Mrs. Weasley," the black haired young man began, sounding worn as well.

"Harry –"Ginny's voice was cut off as Harry continued to speak.

"There's a reason that Ron ran into the situation without thinking it through. You see, Hermione here was being attacked, and Ron, well, there was no stopping him."

"Well, yes dear, we know that much. Ron fought to save Hermione, as he would have fought for any of us."

"No," said Harry. "I mean, yes, he did, but that's not all. Hermione wasn't just being attacked, as we told you. Mrs. Weasley, Hermione was—"

"Harry, please don't!" cried Ginny.

"I have to, Gin. She's his mother. She deserves the truth. And Hermione deserves our help. I can't sit by and watch her suffer anymore and blame herself, Ginny. I know you're trying to help by keeping your word, but I can't. Its not helping any of us."

"Harry, would you kindly finish your story?" asked again.

Hermione could tell that Harry took in a deep breath before continuing, and she felt a strong masculine hand grab onto her unmoving one.

"Hermione was—when we found her she was—" he sounded choked up now, as if the words just would not come. "He raped her; that death eater. And Ron flew off the handle, understandably. There was no stopping the violence. I tried. You have to know I tried. I tried to save him. I'm lucky I could save her. If it was anyone's fault it's mine." She could hear sobs coming from her friend now.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, IF I HEAR ONE MORE WORD ABOUT WHO'S FAULT IT WAS IN THIS HOUSEHOLD YOU'LL ALL BE DE-GNOMING THE GARDEN AND CLEANING THE ATTIC FOR AN ETERNITY, IS THAT CLEAR!?"

She felt a squeeze on her right hand where she knew Harry was holding on and must have been startled by the older woman's outburst. "Y-yes ." He sounded very forlorn and ashamed.

Hermione now heard only silence, followed by a loud thud, and then felt two warm hands and what must have been a face pressing into her other hand, for she could feel a hot wetness as if there were tears, and then Mrs. Weasley spoke again.

"Oh, my poor girl. How could I have been so blind?"

Hermione wanted to speak, to move, to do anything, but she was so stuck, so frozen, just listening, as if in another world.

"Mum?" Ginny's voice was soft and shaky with more tears.

"Oh Ginny," the older voice spoke again. "Come here, my darling little one."

The rustling Hermione heard then told her that it was who had fallen to the floor by her left hand, and now held Ginny. No one was speaking and she desperately wished they would, if only so she could find out if she was to now be turned away for good since Mrs. Weasley knew the truth.

After a short while she heard Mrs. Weasley stand again. "Well, I guess now's as good a time as any to wake her up if she wasn't waking already."

Seconds later Hermione felt like she was being unwrapped; as if someone had covered her in cellophane and suddenly decided to peel it all off at once. She wiggled a finger, testing it, and found that yes, she could indeed move again. She also found that she hurt. Her head was suddenly pounding, and her ribs and pelvis ached deeply.

"Hermione, dear, time to wake up."

She could hear clearly now, and opened her eyes. Her vision was cloudy, by cleared after a minute, and the older woman came into focus, leaning overhead with a worried expression, with Ginny near her shoulder. She looked to her right, and saw Harry, his face splotchy with tears.

" , I'm so sorry!" she blurted out, suddenly wanting to run away and hide her shame.

"Oh, dear." Said the matron in a knowing tone. "How much did you hear? I've never been too good at casting a strong still sleep spell. The sleep always wears off before the stillness."

"I- I heard everything! And I understand if you never want to see me again. How could you, with all that's happened? I'll just go, and get out of everyone's way." She tried to sit up and swing her legs over the edge of the bed, but was gently pushed back down by the older woman.

"Hermione Granger, you will do no such thing! Honestly, I thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch of your age, and you're acting as if you've got no sense at all."

When the older woman saw the shocked expression on Hermione's face she changed her tact.

"Dear, like I just told Harry here, I won't stand for any more talk of blame in this household." Her tone was softer now. "I'm only going to say this once, so the both of you had better listen up! What happened to Ronald was no-one's fault but the death eater he died to bring to justice. Hermione, I'm sure you fought as much as you could, and Harry, I know you tried your hardest to save him. The ministry officials told me that they had to physically pry you off of him I the end. And if either of you ever for one second thinks that any of us will turn our backs on you, then you have obviously learned all the wrong lessons from the war. We are family. Nothing, and I repeat, nothing, will ever break that. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley." Both teens muttered their response at the same time, and turned to look at each other. Harry gave Hermione's hand a squeeze, which she appreciated. Leave it to the matron of the Burrow to pull off a lecture glazed with nothing but love for her family.

"Now, Harry, since Hermione is awake I think it's high time you went and got some sleep. You look absolutely horrid. Go to Luna's if you must, but I expect you back here tomorrow to check in with me. I won't let any of you get sick or go hungry on my watch. Now off with you!"

Harry stood, giving Hermione's hand another squeeze, and gave Ginny a brief hug at the door before heading out of the room, leaving her alone with the two Weasley women.

"Now, Hermione." It seemed she was once again in the spotlight. "What were you thinking, apparating in your condition? You're lucky you didn't cause more damage than you did!"

The brunette bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened at the corners of her eyes. "I don't think I was thinking. I was listening to Ginny and George, and she was being so nice in offering me a place with her that I didn't think I deserved, and I don't know… I guess I panicked. I had to get out of there, so I apparated. I didn't really think about it until it was too late."

"You hit your head pretty hard. The nurse at the hospital said that you're probably going to have a headache for the next week or so. She also asked me to remind you that while your other wounds are still healing, any heavy magic that you do, such as apparating on your own, will cause the healing to slow."

Hermione groaned. She was tired of pain of every sort. Hadn't there been enough of that in this world? Especially for her? With a sigh, she let Ginny's mother tuck the blankets up around her again, suddenly wishing for her own mother, whom she knew would never treat her the same again.

"Now, I want you to get some rest too. We'll talk more about everything once we've all had a good night sleep. Ginny, you too, dear. You're staying here tonight, and I won't hear any ifs, ands or buts about it!"

Ginny nodded, walking over to give her mother a hug, which the older woman returned lovingly.

"Now, lights out, you two!"

As she left the room, Hermione found that she had no complaint about being sent to bed so early, as her head really was pounding, and sleep sounded like just the kind of diversion she needed.

As Ginny climbed into her twin bed a few feet from the one Hermione was resting in, she spoke. "I promise I didn't tell, Hermione. But I won't say I'm not glad she knows the truth."

Hermione sighed, and rolled over to face Ginny. "If I'm being honest, I think I'm glad too. I don't know exactly how I feel about it yet, but I'm glad its not a secret anymore."


End file.
